


second chances are possible.

by sheriddleston (OneshotPrincess)



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), The Hour (TV)
Genre: 007 Fest 2018, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Crossover, F/M, R is Bel basically, That's it that's the plot, and writing practice, self-indulgent nonsense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 16:04:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15392394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneshotPrincess/pseuds/sheriddleston
Summary: It all feels a bit surreal sometimes, R thinks, that she works at MI6 now, in a world where James Bond and Eve Moneypenny are real life people and not characters from a work of fiction. All their adventures are straight out of the books too, sometimes even more outlandish than that and at the center of it all is Q, brilliant, incandescent Q, in charge of his own department given the respect he deserves from the first go.It makes her wonder if she looked hard enough, she’d find a book or a movie or a comic somewhere about a Bel Rowley and a Freddie Lyon in this world. If every life is just a story in someone else’s book.





	second chances are possible.

The thing is, R’s always just sort of…known about it. There isn’t really a time she can recall where it hasn’t been in the back of her mind. Roses are red, water is wet, and R has two lifetimes in her head. That’s how life’s always been.

So she knows it when she takes her IT courses in uni and she knows it when she uses that knowledge to uncover something very unsavory going on with a friend’s rich parents in a manner that really is more than a little illegal. It’s probably because of the person she used to be that she digs as hard as she does and finds herself in far too deep.

Some things really never change it seems.

The memories stir, when she’s approached by MI6 with an offer, giving her the whole Queen and Country spiel (- _if we cannot debate that which troubles our society, more importantly that which troubles our government-_ ) and R doesn’t really buy it for a moment but what other option does she have? She’s done something terribly reckless, chasing some unknown thrill and now she desperately needs the protection.

She’s asked for her cooperation, then put under surveillance and then, finally given a low-clearance desk job in Q-branch. She could almost roll her eyes.

So yes, she knows. But she’s Bel Rowley some and R most of all so it doesn’t quite hit home that she _knows_ until she’s making herself a cup of coffee in the staff room a month into her new job and _he_ walks in- all gangly-limbed and messy-haired and _alive_ , close enough to _touch_. Her heart constricts at the sight of him, sucking all the air out of the room-

_Freddie_ , she thinks. _Freddie_ , _Freddie_ , _Freddie_.

Before she knows it the mug is splattering onto the floor, painting the floor and her shoes with coffee.

_Freddie_ startles at the noise, their eyes meet; for a moment she thinks he remembers it too, he _must_ but then his eyes slide down to the mess at her feet- and no, he doesn’t. He bends hastily to help her pick up the shards and she stammers out an apology.

“It’s alright,” he brushes it off with a laugh. “I’d be a hypocrite if I ever lectured anyone on being clumsy.”

His eyes are still so very green. Bel remembers them last swollen bloody shut but they’re crystal clear now, behind a thin frame of glasses. He flinches back as she unthinkingly reaches up to touch them. She drops her arm hastily.

“Sorry,” she mumbles again.

“It’s alright,” he answers awkwardly.

It’s really, really not.

* * *

 

Alright so R hadn’t made the best first impression what with the clumsiness and the staring and the general awkwardness. But she finds out who he is eventually, in a manner of speaking. Despite all the security and all the talk of clearance levels, MI6 is still an office after all and that means gossip. If R knows anything, it’s how to find out information.

Freddie ( _she really, really should stop thinking of him that way_ ) apparently is a member of Q-branch so far up the food chain that even his _name_ is sealed. That’s alright though. R’s always has been too good to be a pencil pusher going nowhere, even if nowhere is in an organization like MI6.  

So she climbs the professional ladder. She did it once, she can do it again. She climbs and she climbs until she’s become very, very valuable to Q-branch. So valuable in fact, that after an explosion she finds herself the R to a newly-minted Q in a world that shouldn’t exist outside of novel series.

Abruptly, she realizes that she hadn’t quite thought this through.

It all feels a bit surreal sometimes, R thinks, that she works at MI6 now, in a world where James Bond and Eve Moneypenny are real life people and not characters from a work of fiction. All their adventures are straight out of the books too, sometimes even more outlandish than that and at the center of it all is Q, brilliant, incandescent Q, in charge of his own department given the respect he deserves from the first go. The sight of him never fails to keep fill her with something indescribably warm and affectionate.

It makes her wonder if she looked hard enough, she’d find a book or a movie or a comic somewhere about a Bel Rowley and a Freddie Lyon in this world. If every life is just a story in someone else’s book.

“You’re not subtle, you know,” Moneypenny whacks her across the head with a folder by way of greeting. R winces. “For Q.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she takes the folder and flips through primly. “And I’m not a secretary you know.”

Moneypenny –Moneypenny, her friend! - ignores the implied jibe with an affectionate roll of her eyes. “You stare,” she whispers conspiratorially. “It’s really very obvious. You could try asking him out you know. Why don’t you?”

She doesn’t say ‘ _because this is the dance we’ve danced for over a lifetime and I was too scared then and I’m still too scared now_ ’ or ‘ _because I saw him bleed to death once and it broke something in me and I don’t think I could take it again_ ’ or ‘ _because he doesn’t remember I loved him so I can’t tell if I still do_ ’

“Fraternization issues,” R says dryly instead. “Conflict of interests and all that.”

“Please,” Moneypenny rolls her eyes. “You’re Q-branch boffins. You’re the safest of the lot.”

* * *

That turns out to be not-quite-true because Q is drafted into a mission with 007 which he complains and is ecstatic about in equal amounts. It reminds R painfully of the doggedness of Freddie when he’d found a trail he’d simply _have_ to see through.

R’s in charge in Q-branch when the mission goes to shit and the coms go silent. Most of Q-branch aren’t worried _yet_ –James Bond has made a career out of this, Bel’s read the books, seen the movies, she knows it- but all she can really think is Freddie’s gone and put himself in danger _again_ and she wasn’t with him and _she didn’t send the bloody letter again_. She’s a coward. That’s all she can think. She’s been a coward again.

It’s another week before Q comes back with nothing more than a sprained wrist and a wry twist to his smile that Bel is intimately familiar with. He comes _back_ and she can’t take it anymore.

“Welcome back,” she tells him, closing the door to the office.

“Moneypenny,” he answers back, eyes on his computer screen before he freezes. “Err, R,” he corrects hastily, looking back at her. If her heart was beating loudly before, it’s thundering now.

“I was wondering Q,” she says, surprised by how even her own voice sounds. “If you’d like to have dinner with me sometime?”

Q opens his mouth. Then closes it again. Blinks at her, then back at his screen. There is a pause, a long charged moment filled with all of R’s hopes before, “Dinner- I- R- I’d love to, really but…I don’t think it’s possible,” he coughs.

“Not possible,” she repeats dully. Her heart feels like it’s gouging out a new cavity in her chest. “Why not?”

“We shouldn’t. The security risks, the clearance issues. Fraternization within the same branch,” he doesn’t meet her eyes as he rattles them all off neatly, like a practiced rehearsal. “It’s just. It wouldn’t work. I’m sorry.” That last bit at least, sounds genuine.

“Right. It’s alright,” R feels like crawling into a hole and drinking something till she drops but its fine. She’ll call over Eve. They’ll have a pity party. “Alright.”  

She turns on her heel, fully expecting to head back to her desk and just _endure_ until it’s time to go home and get massively drunk when she remembers something. It’s not always been her who was the coward. Freddie had his fair share of the moments too.

“No,” she strides back into the office, startling Q so badly he drops the pen he was holding. “No I don’t think so. I really am tired of it not being possible. It’s possible. You and I are possible.”

She’s breathing hard and Q’s watching her with his big green eyes. She thinks, hopes that maybe that’s recognition there. He swallows almost audibly. “Alright. Friday night then?” Something in her eases at last.

“Movie?” she grins at him.

“We’ll head over together after work?” Q offers and his smile is so, so soft.

“It’s a date.”

* * *

They find a terrible spy movie, the kind that _feels_ like what James Bond should be if James Bond hadn’t been real. They throw popcorn at the screen and Q regales her with tales of 007’s misadventures.

“None of your own?” she laughs.

“Well,” he muses. “I did hack into MI6 and leave my resume there if that counts?”

She laughs even harder at that. Good old Freddie the go-getter, pissing in the face of authority as usual.

Afterwards they hop from bar to bar, getting suitably tipsy each time until Q finally declares that it’s quite enough and offers to walk her home. They giggle and bump into each other the whole way home until they’re standing in front of her flat. R feels like she should say something, or do something- so she leans forward and kisses him. It’s soft and chaste, only the second real kiss Bel has ever given to Freddie.

“Thank you for a wonderful evening,” R says even though it feels like something’s still missing. It’s probably because she’s drunk, things feel a bit fuzzy. Or maybe it’s just the whole world really. Mad topsy-turvy world. What would Hector have been, if he’d been here? Or Lix or Randall or Marnie…?

“Moneypenny?” a voice calls behind her and R drops her key. Q’s still standing on the curb she realizes, just where she’d kissed him. “Really, Quartermaster?” she drawls, ignoring the anticipation, the hope clawing at her once more. “That’s twice now. Is there something you want to tell me about you and Miss Moneypenny?”

He ignores her, takes two steps forward. His eyes are so very, very green; so very serious in the dim light of the street. “Bel,” he says and her breath catches. He reaches a hand towards her.  

“It’s Freddie. It’s me, Bel.”

   

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something I wrote for 007 fest this year because I couldn't get how good The Hour was out of my head. Not particularly proud of this one, I wanted to make this nicer but then I caught a fever :(
> 
> Still, I hope you guys enjoy it! Feedback is always appreciated.


End file.
